


with all your might

by Carmailo



Series: Voltron One Shots [20]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Basically it's just Keith wondering when he fell in love, M/M, its just 7900 words of that, literally thats it - Freeform, you think im kidding but im not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 11:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmailo/pseuds/Carmailo
Summary: “There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me, Mullet.” Lance grins.They make their way from the locker room laughing, teasing and poking at one another for no good reason.And Keith wonders just when he noticed Lance.





	with all your might

**Author's Note:**

> title/sections based off [talk to me by cavetown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHV1wZ7tzoA)

What to say or what to think

* * *

Keith isn’t sure when he starts noticing Lance. 

Maybe it’s when Lance shuffles into his hospital room well after visiting hours, dragging with him his IV drip and shoving a hand through his hair, yawning. When Lance approaches and mumbles a, “hey, team leader. Man, you look like crap.” with an easy smile on his face.

“You should talk,” Keith says back, returning the smile, “what’re you doin’ up?”

“Just checkin’ in on everyone.” Lance shrugs.

“That’s nice of you,” Keith replies, “good work out there, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lance smiles again, “you, too.”

“You’ve changed a lot since I’ve been gone,” Keith adds, pulling himself into an upright position and patting the empty space on the bed.

“What d’you mean?” Lance asks, taking the offered seat without protest. Keith can’t imagine how difficult it is to walk around - it’s a struggle to even sit up.

“You fight differently. And you make good calls. I’m glad you’re my right-hand.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lance dismisses, “I’m just doing my job.”

“And you’re doing a kick-ass one at that,” Keith insists.

Lance turns his head away, smiling to himself. Keith is comfortable to be engulfed in quiet as he moves his own gaze away, to the window. Night sky stretches far and wide, and Keith can’t help but think about the seven years he’s spent in that dark void - one with the team, one with the Blade, two with his mother, and three completely missing from his memory after their fight with Lotor. Keith’s lip quirks up. They’ve come a long way - as a team, as friends, as individuals. All of their suffering and fighting was worth it, in the end, wasn’t it? To come back home and defend it to what could’ve been their dying breaths.

Through thick and thin - even through being completely and unfairly attacked by an exhausted and crazed Keith… they’d all stuck together and found a way to work things out.

“Hey, man,” Lance interrupts, breaking the silence, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” Keith inquires, voice soft.

“It’s dumb, but… I can’t stop thinking about it. There was never really a right time to ask you before, with Earth almost being blown up and everything, but…”

Silence stretches between them until Keith nudges Lance with a leg, raising his eyebrows in patient curiosity.

“We’re friends, right?”

The question hangs between them before Keith starts smiling nervously, confused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, man. Like… we had this… _thing_ back when Shiro… y’know. But when you came back from the quantum abyss it sort of felt like we lost all that progress. Like… you trust me more in battle, I feel that much has changed, but in general… I don’t know if you like me? Or if we’re friends? And I’m starting to hate how much I wanna know because I have no idea.”

“I _do_ trust you in battle. With my life. With everyone else’s lives. And I _do_ like you. What gave you the idea I didn’t?” Keith asks, studying Lance’s profile. 

Lance picks at the bedsheet, considering. After a moment, “I know it’s stupid but… like in _Garfle Warfle Snick,_ you chose me to go free because you didn’t want to be stuck with me forever. And then later, when you distracted that drone and I had to shoot it. You told me not to miss, but almost like… you didn’t trust me to make the shot? Like, I’m positive you know I’m a decent shot.”

Keith furrows his brow and is about to respond when Lance continues, “I know I’m just bringing up stupid stuff-”

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Keith injects, “it’s perfectly fair. I was just joking. I wanted you to leave because I figured that with your personality, you’d be able to build up a coalition and get half the planets in the universe behind you in less than a varga. You’d have so many people backing you it would be no surprise when you took out the Empire and restored peace to the universe. Plus, after all the nice stuff you said… sentimentality isn’t really my thing. And I didn’t really think you’d miss. I was just teasing you. I guess it didn’t come across right. And you’re more than just _“decent”_ when it comes to shooting. What was it Shiro called you? Our sharpshooter?”

Lance gapes at Keith, fingers stilling on the blanket. Keith meets the stare before looking away, lifting his chin and crossing his arms as he fights the flush crawling up his neck, “I’m just saying.”

“I, uh…” Lance starts, speechless for once, “thanks?”

Keith brings his eyes back to Lance’s, his features softening, “anytime.”

“So… we _are_ friends, right?” Lance asks again, eyes skipping all over Keith’s face but stubbornly not making eye contact.

“Yeah,” Keith says, “‘course we are.”

Lance smiles, satisfied, and stands. “Great. Cool.”

“Cool,” Keith agrees, feeling his lips tug upwards.

“I’m gonna go check on everyone else, but I will see you soon, _friend._ ” Lance makes his way to the door backwards, and Keith fears he might trip.

“See you,” Keith agrees, watching as Lance disappears from the doorway.

He gives a laugh at Lance’s antics before settling back down.

_Friends._

That’s alright

* * *

Maybe, Keith thinks, it’s when he pads into the Garrison kitchen in search of a snack, late at night.

He finds Acxa there, growling at something as she presses her hand down furiously. A second later, her tools clatter to the counter.

“Acxa?” Keith asks softly, raising a brow, “what’re you doing?”

Acxa starts, flinching away from the counter with her hands raised in surrender. She seems as though she’s about to bolt, so Keith peers around her and says, “if you’re trying to grate cheese, I can show you.”

He makes his way over without waiting for a response, washing his hands and drying them before grabbing the grater by the handle. He lifts the block of cheese, inspecting it for a second before starting in surprise. “It’s frozen,” Keith says, dumbfounded. He turns to Acxa, “you can’t grate cheese if it’s frozen solid.”

Acxa crosses her arms, drawing her shoulders up, “how am I supposed to know how your Earth foods work?”

Keith pauses, about to say that any frozen food is difficult to deal with, but shakes his head and continues, “I’ll stick it in the microwave for a few seconds. That’ll soften it up enough to use.”

Acxa watches with rapt attention as Keith sticks the cheese into the microwave, setting it to three seconds before pressing start. He opens and checks on it once the timer runs out, and then repeats the process. He returns to the counter a moment later, satisfied.

“So you just press it here and move it down,” Keith says, demonstrating. He grates the cheese again before looking to Acxa.

Where she should be hanging by Keith’s shoulder and watching, she’s still a foot away. “Come here,” Keith says, “you won’t learn anything if you can’t see.”

Tentative, Acxa inches closer until Keith can feel her presence next to him. “So, like I was saying,” Keith starts again, “just press it at the top and drag it down.”

“And what does that do?” Acxa asks, and Keith turns to her in disbelief. She shifts back when she notices their proximity, and Keith wonders if there’s a blush to her cheeks.

“You don’t know what it does, and you wanted to do it anyway?” Keith asks. It sounds unnecessary and silly and… like something he’d do.

“It seemed interesting!” Acxa defends.

“Well, if you say so.” Keith turns back to the cheese and grates for a few moments before setting the block down. “ _This_ is what happens when you grate cheese.” With great care inherited from his father, Keith eases the grater up, revealing a pile of shredded cheese.

Acxa gasps and leans closer, “incredible!”

“Not really,” Keith says, shifting his weight onto one heel with a shrug, “most human kids learn how to do it when they’re young. And it’s not like… magic, or something.”

“Can I try?” Acxa asks, a touch timid as she points to the grater.

“Yeah,” Keith shrugs, “sure.”

Keith doesn’t move simply because the grater is already between both of them, and when Acxa shifts into his space, he stays put without a second thought. He’s _gay_. What harm could it do?

“So you just…” Acxa starts, trailing off into concentration as she sets the cheese onto the grater.

In one movement, she smears cheese over the face of the grater but fails to shred any.

“No- here,” Keith says, reaching over. He puts his hands over Acxa’s, one on the cheese and the other on the grater, “like this.”

Gentle, Keith guides Acxa’s hands in grating the cheese, smiling as she starts to lead and get the hang of it.

“Not so bad,” Keith says, offering a small smile as he moves his hands back.

Acxa lets out a small laugh, seemingly pleased, “yeah!”

“Keith, that you? Thought I heard you-”

Keith looks up to see Lance comes to a stop in the kitchen doorway, one hand on the doorway and the other clutching his IV stand. For reasons unbeknownst to Keith, Lance is still yet to recover enough to go without it.

“Lance,” Keith breathes, blinking in surprise. Acxa, meanwhile, is suddenly several steps over, standing at a respectful distance and keeping her head down as she fiddles with the grater.

“Oh- uh- shit, sorry,” Lance says, “pretend I was never here.”

With that, Lance disappears from sight, the only trace of him ever having been there the slight squeak of the IV’s wheels fading to silence.

Keith furrows his brow but figures it’s probably nothing.

It’s so dark tonight

* * *

It could be when Lance slams through Keith’s door unannounced in the early hours of morning, in his pyjamas and panting heavily.

Keith only has a second to be grateful that Lance barges in when he does - a moment earlier and Keith would be left standing in nothing but his boxers. At least now he’s got pants settled at his hips, even if his shirt is lying discarded on his bed.

“Lance?”

“Keith, they’re coming,” Lance huffs, eyes wide, “they’re coming, Keith. We have to- we have to _leave._ ”

“Who’s coming?” Keith asks, picking up on Lance’s urgency, before pressing on, knowing there’s no time to waste, “get suited up. Let’s form-”

“ _No._ ” Lance says, “we can’t. We don’t have time. We have to _leave._ ”

“What?” Keith asks, feeling his brows draw together in confusion, “Lance, what’s going on?”

“They’re _coming!_ ” Lance says, his voice starting to rise in volume as he takes steps toward Keith, “they’ll kill us all! Go, Keith, go!”

“Lance, _who?!_ ”

“They- Voltron doesn’t stand a chance.” Lance’s eyes widen and his face falls, as though coming to a realization. He’s stopped dead in his tracks, eyes haunted and focussing on nothing.

“What?” Keith breathes, cold fear dripping into his veins, “what do you mean?”

“Atlas is gone,” Lance says, his eyes unseeing as they meet Keith’s, “Shiro’s dead.”

Keith’s heart falls into the pit of his stomach, and he’s rendered frozen.

“What?” he whispers, voice scratchy to his own ears.

“Keith- _Keith._ ” Lance wheezes, stumbling to his knees, “Keith, it’s just us left.”

“Wha- I-I don’t understand,” Keith mumbles, “why- I don’t-”

“Everyone else is dead,” Lance says, “they’re _dead._ ” he starts to hiccup, broken sobs festering as he takes shallow breaths.

Black dances at the corners of Keith’s eyes, fear and sorrow and _anguish-_

He falls into a kneel, reaching out for Lance, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He blinks them away furiously, schooling his emotions into submission, if only for now.

Keith is the Black Paladin. He has a job to do.

“Lance,” Keith says, voice firm yet somehow gentle, “Lance, look at me.”

Lance brings his eyes up to Keith’s, tears glistening on his eyelashes as he bites back any more sobs.

Keith has to swallow hard over the lump in his throat before he can speak, stalling by setting his hands on Lance’s shoulders and squeezing once.

“You’re okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

Lance shakes his head viciously, features blurring as he disagrees.

“No, we _won’t,_ ” he insists, “they’re coming.”

And then the most peculiar thing happens:

Ryan Kinkade stops at Keith’s open door, politely tapping his fist on the doorway as if he’s going to ask Keith to please keep the noise down.

“Kinkade,” Keith says, straightening, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing in particular,” Kinkade says, raising an eyebrow.

Keith frowns. “Nothing?”

“No,” Kinkade shakes his head.

“And… Atlas is okay?” Keith ventures, feeling his gaze creep down to Lance.

“Aside from minor repairs that have yet to be completed, Atlas is fine and fully functional.”

“And Shiro? The rest of the paladins?”

“I saw them all at our last mealtime. They seemed to fit the usual.” Kinkade says, crossing his arms.

Keith is quiet, thoughts racing.

“Is he okay?” Kinkade jerks his chin in Lance’s direction.

Keith instinctively moves in front of Lance, shielding his vulnerable form from sight.

“He’s fine,” Keith says, suddenly protective. Who is Kinkade to see Lance when he’s down? Kinkade isn’t one of Lance’s friends. He hasn’t had the same experiences. It’s Keith’s job as a friend to protect Lance from any potential harm that could come from a near stranger seeing him at a low. “Was there something you needed?”

“I heard yelling and thought you might be arguing. I was going to tell you your door is open and that if you want privacy you might want to close it.”

“Oh,” Keith says, “thanks.”

Kinkade tips his head in acknowledgement, and, bless his soul, presses the door close button, disappearing from sight with a _whoosh._

Which leaves Keith to turn to Lance, now trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Is Lance hallucinating? Dreaming? Playing a joke on Keith?

But… Lance would never joke about their teammates - their _friends_ \- being killed in battle.

Would he?

“Lance,” Keith coaxes gently, “Lance, look at me.”

Lance lifts his head again, but now he’s got tears on his cheeks. Keith bites back a curse, worry wrapping it’s cold hands around his throat. How does he fix this? He can’t leave and get Hunk or Veronica, both certain to have answers. Keith doesn’t know how to help Lance - is there even a right way to?

“Hey,” Keith says softly, “it’s okay. It’s not real. Atlas is okay, everyone’s okay.”

The attempt falls flat when Lance tries to stand in a panic. “No- I- I _saw-_ ” he protests, resisting against Keith’s palms, the only thing keeping him down and from hurting himself in a haste to run from the room.

“You’re just…” Keith pauses. He could tell Lance he’s hallucinating, and possibly send him into a deeper downwards spiral, or he could go the safer route at the risk of telling a lie and say that Lance is dreaming.

Keith decides he’ll take his chances with accidentally lying.

“You’re just dreaming, Lance.” Keith assures, “nothing’s out there.”

“Keith, listen to yourself!” Lance exclaims, “I _saw_ them! They got Atlas- they- they’re coming for you next!”

“Lance!” Keith cries, over Lance’s urgent words.

“Keith, run!” Lance says, despondency in his every word, “go!”

“Lance, wake up!” Keith says, grasping at straws, “no one’s coming for us! You’re okay!”

“How can you _say_ that?” Lance asks, reaching up to scrub at his eyes.

“Trust me, Lance!” Keith says, desperation clawing at his lungs, “don’t you trust me?”

Lance falls quiet, registering Keith’s words.

“Of course I do,” he says, “of course I do!”

“You’re just dreaming. It’s okay. Wake up, Lance.” Keith repeats, “wake up.”

A beat passes between them, where Lance’s eyelids flutter until they finally fall shut, slowly slumping forward. His head lands on Keith’s shoulder and his arms go limp as his body falls.

“Lance?” Keith asks in the sudden silence, too afraid to move.

At first, nothing happens.

Then, hands slowly feel their way up Keith’s arms, coming to a stop at his shoulders, tensing.

“Keith?” Lance asks, voice hoarse, “what’s going on?”

“Lance,” Keith breathes, feeling relief flood his system as Lance shifts back, “are you okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, why wouldn’t I be?” Lance blinks at Keith, squinting with a grimace, as though adjusting to the light of Keith’s room.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Keith asks, still too shaken to let Lance go.

“I went to bed. Hey, how’d I get in your room? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Lance’s eyes go wide. “Wait a second,” he breathes, “did we-”

“ _No._ ” Keith interrupts, shutting that idea down right away, “you ran into my room and told me we had to go because “they” were attacking. You said… you said that everyone was dead and that I was next.” Keith explains, feeling a frown tug at his lips, the words heavy on his tongue.

“I did that in real life?” Lance asks, disbelieving.

“Yeah,” Keith says.

“I dreamt I did something like that,” Lance says, “am I sleepwalking… and talking, I guess, now?”

“Maybe,” Keith considers, “it could be a one-time thing, though.”

“I guess,” Lance concurs, before having a heavy sigh.

He reaches up to his face and rubs at it with one hand, freezing suddenly and going rigid in Keith’s arms.

“Was I crying?” he asks hesitantly, blinking at the hand he pulls away from his face, wet.

“You did start at one point, yeah,” Keith nods.

“Oh man,” Lance says, deflating, “I’m sorry, Keith.”

“What for?” Keith asks, “surely not for attempting to save my life while under the impression it was at risk?”

Lance gives a small laugh at that, “no, Mullet. For waking you up and killing a solid twenty minutes of sleeping time.”

“First, I was awake, so fuck off. Second, I’d give up all my sleep if it meant being able to be there for you.” Keith says, blunt. At Lance’s sudden silence, Keith tacks on, “so fuck off a second time. And it’s not a mullet. So fuck off a third time.”

Lance laughs at that, leaning forward to hug Keith. Keith stiffens for a moment before relaxing into the embrace, even hugging back.

“Thanks, man.” Lance says, “that means a lot. And I feel the same about the second thing, okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith murmurs.

And there’s a glint in Lance’s eyes when he pulls back, so enrapturing that Keith almost misses the tremble to Lance’s body.

“Are you… sure you’re okay?” Keith ventures, “you’re shaking.”

“Just… a really vivid nightmare, y’know?” Lance fake-smiles, trying to laugh the dream away, “can’t stop seeing my friends in a bloody pile, ha, ha.”

“What?” Keith asks.

“Jesus- Keith, I’m sorry. I’m just… a little shaken up.” Lance admits, letting out a shaky breath.

Keith furrows his brow, trying to think of something to try and help.

“Do you maybe… do you want to sleep here tonight? I can get a spare bed.” Keith suggests tentatively. Are they close enough friends to have sleepovers? Probably, right? They spent something like a full year in close quarters. But then again… that had been over six years ago for Keith. Four for Lance. And three of those years had been spent floating in space. So really only a year or so for Lance, and something like three for Keith.

So a long time.

Lance looks relieved at the suggestion, tension draining from his shoulders as he nods, “yes, please.”

He smiles warmly at Keith, a gesture that he can’t help but return.

Nothing is easy, it’ll never be

* * *

Or perhaps when Lance yells, “go left, Allura!” cutting Red sharply away from the burning fireball sent his way.

Krolia’s simulations are plentiful, and the paladins make a point to run one every day, randomizing them to get as many different scenarios as possible. They’ve no idea how many are impossible to beat, nor how many different ways each can play out, but the five of them have been steadily working through them, getting better and better each time.

“Lance, watch your nine!” Keith calls in return, watching as Red starts to take blaster fire from a nearby gun turret.

Red whips around and sets the whole tower on fire before turning tail and rushing to Allura’s aid, yelling thanks over the din of battle.

They continue like this for a while; Hunk is the first to be wiped out, tired and itching to get working on a few enhancements to the lions and Atlas; distracted. Allura is next, having been beat down until Blue is swaying precariously in the air. Finally, she’s taken out by a fighter ship and goes spiralling toward the ground, Green swooping in the last second keep the lion from making impact. Allura lets herself down but declares Blue is out for the simulation.

It leaves Keith, Lance, and Pidge to complete the infiltration portion of the simulated mission.

“I can handle everything remotely from here,” Pidge says, “but I need to make sure there’re no countermeasures running. So we’ll need to take out whoever’s in there.”

“I’ll go,” Lance says, “my bayard is long-range. It’s better suited for this mission.”

“I don’t want you in there alone,” Keith argues, “we don’t know how many are in there. Pidge, activate your cloaking. Lance and I’ll infiltrate.”

“Sounds good,” Pidge says, “you’re looking at thirty hostiles at least, so be careful.”

Red and Black touch down right as Green shimmers out of sight, Keith and Lance already jumping from their lions. Particle barriers go up around the lions and the two start to make their way into the building, bayards powering up.

“Ready, Samurai?” Lance asks idly, positioning himself in front of the doors.

“As ever, Sharpshooter.” Keith grins, feeling anticipation creep into his blood, “Pidge, the doors.”

“On it,” Pidge replies, and the doors slide open barely a second later.

They’re met with gunfire that Lance easily tackles, Keith charging head-first into the gaggle of sentries.

It takes them a few minutes to clear a path, but it’s not long until they’re making their way to the control room, barely breaking a sweat.

“Not bad, huh?” Lance asks, smirking at Keith.

“Eh,” Keith shrugs, “could’a been better.”

Lance laughs, Keith quick to join him, and says, “oh yeah? Watch this.”

Lance’s blaster suddenly glows and shifts shape in his hands, a sword there a moment later.

“What?” Keith asks, eyes widening in disbelief, “you have a sword? When did that happen?”

“Lance has a sword?” Pidge asks, echoing Keith, “since when?”

“You didn’t even know?” Keith asks Pidge, incredulous.

“No!”

“Lance?!” Keith asks, in search of answers.

Lance just slams his fist on the door release for the control room and bursts in, slicing through sentries left and right, leaving Keith in awe.

His technique is different from Keith’s, more graceful in the way that Lance turns and moves, light on his feet where Keith is more head-on, sooner stabbing than dodging.

“Stop drooling, Kogane,” Lance smirks, “I know how cool I am.”

“I had no idea you’re good with a sword, let alone that you had one,” Keith says instead, ignoring Lance’s comment.

“There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me, Mullet.” Lance grins, turning away, “it’s part of my mysterious charm.”

“Jesus Christ,” Pidge groans, “please stop… doing whatever you guys are, and _watch the controls._ ”

Lance laughs and starts to make jokes, at which point Keith sort of tunes him out and turns toward the door, holding a fighting stance in case of any missed sentries or Galra.

He keeps mulling over what Lance said: _there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me._

 _Maybe,_ Keith thinks, _I should make an effort to learn._

It doesn’t make you a narcissist

* * *

Maybe, even, it’s when Keith’s avoiding responsibility on the Garrison rooftop, staring up at the sky stretching before him.

“So…” Lance starts slowly, leaning forward into Keith’s view before he takes a few steps and comes fully into sight, “Ryan asked me out.”

“Ryan? Oh, Kinkade.” Keith realizes, “okay.”

Lance raises an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

“What do you want from me?” Keith asks, turning back to the sky. He stares at the same sky he used to, at constellations he’s probably flown through at some point.

“I dunno. Advice?” Lance asks, also tilting his face up to the stars, “should I say yes?”

“You haven’t answered him yet?” Keith asks, dumbfounded but too entranced by the stars to look away.

“I did!” Lance protests, “I said I’d think about it.”

“Lance, you douche,” Keith replies, bringing his gaze to meet Lance’s.

“What?” Lance asks, crossing his arms, “I wasn’t sure, okay?”

“Jesus,” Keith says, “he bares his heart to you and you say you’ll think about it.”

“Keith. Advice, now.” Lance demands, uncrossing his arms, hands landing on his hips instead, and turning fully toward Keith.

“Do you like him?” Keith asks, curious as to how it’s not obvious to Lance that you date people you like and reject those you don’t.

“I don’t know!” Lance says, throwing up his hands, “he’s cute and all and could probably bench-press me, but I might like someone else!”

“Who, Allura? No offence, but we both know that’s at a pretty clear standstill. You can still date other people in the meantime. Give her time.”

“It’s…” Lance trails off, looking away. He seems to blush as he says, “not Allura.”

“Oh.” Keith says, surprised, “then why don’t you ask the other person out?”

“Because, Keith!” Lance says, “that’s not how it works!”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Keith snorts, “Kinkade had no issue with it.”

“Yeah, but he’s _sure._ ” Lance argues. “And call him Ryan. It’s less antisocial, you emo hermit.”

“Hey!” Keith cries, indignant, “I’m not antisocial. I just… prefer not to be social.”

Lance deadpans.

“Stop being so disrespectful to your elders!” Keith says.

“Oh, shut up!” Lance laughs, “you loser.”

They fall silent a moment later, their laughter falling away to the quiet night.

“Why don’t you take a chance on Kinkade?” Keith asks after a while, “what could it hurt?”

“I don’t want to screw him over like that,” Lance mumbles quietly, kicking at the ground.

“Lance, it’s a date,” Keith assures, “it’s not you’re getting married or anything. He’s probably not expecting much.”

“Guess that’s true,” Lance says, considerate. “Thanks, Keith. You have surprisingly good love advice.”

“Never a compliment without an insult, huh?” Keith asks, raising a good-natured eyebrow at Lance.

Lance grins, “we may be friends now, but we were rivals first.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but laughs with Lance anyways, an easy smile finding its way on his face.

“And what about you?” Lance asks, a moment later when they’re quiet again.

“Hm?” Keith hums, bringing his gaze back to the sky.

“Do you like anyone? What about James?”

Keith chokes on his saliva before turning to Lance. “ _James?!_ ”

“Well, yeah,” Lance shrugs, stifling a giggle at Keith’s outburst.

“Sorry, did you mean _James Griffin?_ ”

“Yeah!” Lance says, “he’s hot, isn’t he?”

“He’s an _ass!_ ”

Lance lets out a full laugh at that, “he was a jealous kid!”

Keith starts at that, surprised Lance remembers Keith’s scuffle with Griffin.

“Point is,” Keith starts, choosing not to mention Lance’s memory, “ _no._ ”

“Is it someone else?” Lance asks, suggestive.

“Look,” Keith starts, “I don’t like anyone, okay? Not at the moment.”

“Aw,” Lance says, slumping with a pout, “that’s no fun.”

“Whatever,” Keith says, turning away. He crosses his arms tightly, hunching in on himself.

“Hey,” Lance says softly, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Keith says, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did… was it something I said?”

Keith hunches tighter.

“Talk to me, Keith. I can’t fix the problem if you don’t tell me what it is.” Lance insists, his hand finding Keith’s shoulder and squeezing reassuringly.

Keith sighs, turning back to Lance. He drops his hands in defeat, meeting Lance’s eyes. “It’s not your fault.”

Lance raises a brow in question but doesn’t say anything, giving Keith a chance to figure himself out and speak in his own time.

“It’s just… love and all of that… it’s not really something I see myself being part of. Or experiencing.” Keith says, hesitant.

“Because you don’t think you’re worth the effort?” Lance wonders, turning and leaning against the railing, fingers finding the metal.

“That’s probably one of the reasons,” Keith shrugs, refusing to meet Lance’s eyes.

He’s calculative and quiet for a moment before asking, “you’re afraid of losing people, aren’t you?”

Keith is quiet.

“And… that’s why you push people away and take so long to open up.”

“Jeez,” Keith says, crossing his arms again, “I came up here to get air, not to be psychoanalyzed.”

Lance cracks a small smile at that, “sometimes you need a little psychoanalysis.”

Keith falls quiet at that, considering, “what’s your point?”

“My _point_ is,” Lance says, voice soft, “that you’re worth loving. You’re incredibly smart, funny, caring, and a great friend. You’re a hard-working person and know your limits but push them anyways. For the longest time, you were everything I wished I was. And the only reason you’re not anymore is because I learned to be myself and that I don’t need to be what I think is perfect. You helped me learn that. So… don’t doubt you’re not worth it, okay? And if you ever do, I’ll be there to remind you you are.”

Keith stares at Lance, trying his best not to gape but gaping anyways.

“And it’s okay to be afraid of losing people. I won’t lie, you’ll lose people you never thought you ever would. But that’s just life. People come and go, but there’ll be people who’ll never leave. Like me.” Lance says, before his eyes seem to widen and he starts rambling, “I-I mean, like Hunk and Pidge and Shiro and Allura and Coran and… And also me.”

Keith smiles warmly, “thanks, Lance. That means a lot.”

Lance smiles back, “of course, man.”

“Could I… uh…” Keith reaches out tentatively, hands hovering a few inches away from his body.

“Yeah,” Lance says, somehow understanding, “of course! You don’t have to ask,” he adds.

Hesitant, Keith reaches out for a hug. He’s only ever hugged Shiro before of his own accord, and hugging Lance… is far beyond his means.

“Bring it in, buddy,” Lance jokes, letting Keith envelop him in a hug. Their height difference plays a small role in Lance’s arms winding around Keith’s waist, the way his chin hooks over Keith’s shoulder.

Lance smells clean, like deodorant and soap, like the detergent used to wash the Garrison uniforms, and something else, completely of his own, and so completely _Lance._

“This is the second time we’ve hugged,” Lance says, letting out a small laugh, “in the near two years of being teammates. Or… five years, I guess. Seven for you.”

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles, “time’s weird.”

“You’re weird,” Lance chuckles, pulling back enough to see Keith’s face, “but that’s how I like you.”

Keith smiles a little at that, letting out a small exhale of amusement.

Maybe…

Maybe that’s just when he starts to fall.

Build a fire warm and bright

* * *

Keith wonders if it’s when Pidge comes down with a high fever.

Keith doesn’t know that Pidge is bedridden until Romelle fetches him from his room one morning, prattling on about how human immune systems are so fragile and _odd_. Keith tries to explain that a fever isn’t often so damaging, and then wonders why it’s hitting Pidge so hard.

When they reach Pidge’s room, Hunk turns to Keith and says, “‘morning. Put this on. How’re you?”

Keith accepts the mask he’s given and hooks the loops over his ears but leaves the actual cloth at his chin for the time being. “‘Morning. I’m fine, how’re you?”

“I’m good,” Hunk says, smiling, “thanks. Just FYI, only two people in the room at once, one of which is Lance and not including the occasional nurse.”

“Lance is in there?” Keith asks, “is he a doctor, now?”

“His siblings, cousins, niece, and nephew,” Hunk explains, “guess he’s got enough experience to be a doctor for common house colds.”

“Huh,” Keith says, dumbfounded.

“But you can go in now,” Hunk says, “I think she wanted to see you, but she didn’t say for sure.”

“Okay,” Keith says, “thanks.”

Hunk nods, admitting Keith into the room with a reminder to pull up the mask.

“Hey,” Keith says, coming to stand by Pidge’s bedside, “you’re sick, huh?”

“Yes, and it _sucks._ ” Pidge groans, voice congested.

“Well,” Keith says, shrugging, “that’s life.”

“Thank you, O Great Leader, for those inspiring words.” Pidge deadpans, an expression that is only made more aggressive with her dark eye bags and washed out skin.

“Pidgey,” Lance says, “lie back.”

“No.” Pidge says, glaring at Lance, “I have to talk to Keith.”

“Fine,” Lance says, turning away and dramatically feigning hurt, “don’t listen to me.”

“What did you want to talk about?” Keith asks, trying to keep tabs on the small smile that comes to his lips at Lance’s antics. He’s got to get his infatuation under control before he’s in too deep.

Lance comes right up to Keith and sets his elbow on his shoulder, relaxing against him.

Oh, well. There goes any chance of not letting his… _crush_ go any further.

“So I was doing scans on the robeast we fought,” Pidge starts, explaining the fascinating physical structure of the opponent that had nearly made both Voltron and Atlas face their ends.

Keith nods, crossing his arms, as Pidge explains the unique quintessence figure of the robeast, concluding by saying that she’s fresh out of ideas in terms of figuring it out.

“Any ideas?”

Keith brings his index finger, bent, to his chin, humming thoughtfully.

“You’ve never seen it before?” Keith asks, glancing over at Lance as he finally - blessedly, but also not - gets off Keith and sets his hands on his hips.

“No,” Pidge says, “and I don’t know if the castleship’s database will have it. I can try and match it but there’s a huge chance it’s not there.”

“What if you ran it with Voltron’s database?” Lance asks, “and the castle? Maybe it’s a mix of two signatures. Run a bunch of like… mashups of different sigs. There’re infinite possibilities, right? Just keep running a program until we find a match.”

Pidge adjusts her glasses, pausing. “That… that actually might work,” she says, slow and disbelieving. “Nice thinking, Lance!”

Lance nods, smiling, “I know, I’m a genius.”

“I wouldn’t say _genius,_ ” Keith interjects, smirking at Lance.

“Square up, team leader!” Lance declares, going so far as to put his fists up.

Keith is about to engage, ready to fully and completely kick Lance’s ass in Pidge’s room, but then Pidge coughs, and they both turn to her, Keith sheepish and Lance with concern.

“You weren’t coughing before,” Lance says, “are you dying?”

“Feels like it,” Pidge says, slumping back.

“Here,” Lance says, “get some rest. Stop worrying about robeasts.”

“I’ll try,” Pidge mumbles, “thanks, Lance.”

“C’mon, Keith,” Lance says, “let’s let her sleep.”

“Okay,” Keith says, letting Lance steer him to the door, “feel better, Pidge!”

“Thanks,” Pidge croaks, coughing again.

Keith lingers at the door as Lance returns to Pidge’s bedside, setting a glass of water on the night table and tucking her in. He tells her something and she gives a tiny laugh, grinning up at Lance. Before he turns away, he takes her glasses off of her face and sets them aside, pointing at the night table and whispering that there’s more medicine there and a glass of water.

A moment later has Lance by Keith’s side again, patting his back in order to usher him forward. Keith complies, stepping from the room with Lance behind him.

“I’m concerned,” Lance says, as he comes to a stop by Hunk. Lance looks between Keith and Hunk as he continues, “she doesn’t have a fever. I think she’s got a stress cold.”

Hunk frowns, and Lance sighs. “She’s so little and she… Man, I wish she didn’t have to deal with all of this.”

“Me too,” Keith agrees, scuffing his boot against the ground.

“I wish no one did,” Lance adds, reaching up to rub at his face.

“We’ll find a way to make it so that no one else has to,” Hunk says, reassuring as always, “soon. We’re almost there.”

“Yeah,” Lance smiles, “you’re right, Hunk.”

“When aren’t I?” Hunk asks, earning a laugh from Lance.

Keith just gives Hunk a soft smile of pride, glad that he’s so steadfast in the midst of everything else.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says, just as Hunk turns away to answer Romelle, asking her own questions, “can I talk with you?”

“Yeah,” Keith nods, “‘course.”

Keith wracks his brain as he follows Lance down a corridor, trying to figure out what it could possibly be that Lance needs to talk about. Or maybe Keith is so far gone in his social reclusion that he’s only now realizing that Lance is his best friend - that Keith has become Lance’s. And of course, they’ve both got Shiro and Hunk respectively, but the relationships there feel more brotherly, more like blood relations and less like… whatever Keith and Lance have got going on.

They’ve walked sufficiently far from Hunk and Romelle, silent but comfortable, when Lance slows his pace and falls into step beside Keith. They keep walking - both more comfortable to move while they converse.

“So…” Lance starts slowly, “it’s come to my attention that it is November.”

Keith raises his eyebrow, suspicious, “yes…”

“And _someone -_ not naming names,” Lance gives Keith a pointed look, good natured but still analyzing, “recently had their birthday.”

Keith pauses, trying to remember. “Did I forget Veronica’s birthday?” Keith asks, “is this you doing your brotherly duty of beating me into celebrating it? Because if it is, I apologize and I will get her a gift-”

“No!” Lance interrupts, “yours!”

Keith’s mouth falls into an o, surprised.

“Did you forget your own birthday?”

No, Keith did not. Well, he did. But Shiro had reminded him, handed him a small gift and card, knowing that Keith would prefer not to make a big deal of things. 

“I thought you meant someone else,” Keith shrugs, innocent enough.

“No,” Lance laughs, “no, you.”

“Oh,” Keith says, fidgetting. What does he say to that? “So?”

Lance comes to a stop in front of Keith, reaching into his pocket.

“ _So,_ ” Lance pulls a small box from his pocket, “I got you something.”

Maybe that’s when Keith starts to realize.

Realize that he’s been noticing Lance the whole time and missing the signs.

“Really?” Keith asks softly, entranced.

“Yeah,” Lance nods, grinning sort of lopsidedly, “‘course. It’s the least I can do.”

Keith stares at Lance’s outstretched hand, unsure if he should take the gift - unsure if Lance is being serious or not.

“C’mon,” Lance urges, “it’s for you.”

Keith reaches out and takes the box with tentative fingers, nervous. What if he doesn’t like it? What if Lance is dissapointed in his reaction?

Swallowing imperceptibly, Keith eases the lid of the box open, face softening when he sees what’s inside.

A pendant hangs from simple black chord, glinting in the dim lighting. A small triangle hangs upside down from the chord, a tiny inscription in an alien language on the back.

“I bought it off an old Telegner merchant at the markets… he said it means “impossibly plentiful”, or “unquantifiable”.”

Keith looks up from the pendant to Lance’s face, features earnest.

“...Do you like it?” Lance asks, uneasy.

“I love it,” Keith assures, “thank you, Lance.”

“Happy birthday, Keith.” Lance smiles, face flush.

“Can you help me with putting it on?” Keith asks, pulling the necklace from it’s casing.

“You… you don’t have to put it on if you don’t want,” Lance says hesitantly, “really.”

“I know. I want _to_ ,” Keith feels a corner of his lips tug up as he hands the necklace to Lance and turns, his fingers moving to lift his hair off his neck.

Lance is gentle pulling the necklace around Keith’s neck, his fingers barely brushing against Keith’s spine as he does the clasp. Keith looks down at the pendant, settled comfortably a few inches below his collarbones. “Thank you,” he murmurs, turning around.

The action brings him face-to-face with Lance, barely enough room between them to breathe - that is, if Keith could even manage a breath this close to Lance.

“Um,” Lance breathes, “hey.”

“Hey,” Keith repeats, blinking rapidly. There’s no way this is real.

“Can… I have another present for you,” Lance starts, “but you’re either gonna hate it or not mind it.”

“Only one way to find out,” Keith murmurs, trying to keep his eyes from flitting down to Lance’s mouth.

He’s successful, and he mentally pats himself on the back.

“Close your eyes?”

Keith’s eyes fall shut without any hesitation, his full trust in his right-hand-man, in Lance.

“Okay,” Lance breathes, “okay.”

Keith feels himself smile a little, but it vanishes when a hand comes to his jaw and lips press softly to his own. It’s a fleeting feeling, there one second and gone the next, but when Keith’s eyes open, his lips tingle with pleasant warmth and Lance is suddenly a foot away.

“I, uh…” Lance opens his mouth, falling short and trying again, “sorry!”

He’s running down the hall faster than Keith can think to call out for him, around the corner when Keith finally reaches out a hand and calls, “wait!”

Talk to me

* * *

“New uniforms?” Keith asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re definitely beyond cadets, now,” Iverson grins, “we had them specially made for team Voltron.”

Allura smiles, diplomatic as ever, “the gesture is kind and we appreciate it very much. Voltron is looking forward to continuing with Earth at our side.”

Iverson smiles in response, assuring the princess that it’s the least he can do.

Keith glances over at Lance, waiting for some sort of comment, but nothing comes from the paladin, who continues listening to Iverson intently. Keith furrows his brow. Since their kiss, the pair has been awkward - Lance continues to sit next to Keith in conferences, still the right-hand of Voltron, still walks besides him when the team is called to a meeting, is still communicative in training. But their social dynamic - easy banter, random conversations at the oddest times, sleepovers even though their rooms aren’t that far from one another - dissolved. Over night, they’d lost the friendship they’d worked so hard to cultivate.

Realistically, Keith knows it’s Lance. He knows that Lance is overanalyzing and pinning the fault on himself. But Keith can’t help but blame himself, feels as though he’d somehow pressured Lance into doing something he didn’t want to. Because since when had Lance ever been interested in Keith? The two of them told one another virtually everything. What made this so differen-?

“Earth to Keith,” Lance prompts, “let’s go put on our new uniforms.”

Keith blinks, surprised, “oh, uh, yeah. Let’s.”

He gathers up the package in front of him, holds under an arm as he follows the group to a dressing room, their rooms too far. Pidge and Allura split off into one room, but Keith follows Hunk and Lance into another, each of them getting to work on changing.

“Why’re we changing now?” Keith asks, “in the middle of the day?”

“We’ve got a conference in an hour,” Lance shrugs.

Keith glances over at him.

“So we’re talking now?” he sets his hands on his hips, shirt off but not bothering to button up his new one.

His pendant sits around his neck, having remained there since first being clasped on.

Hunk glances between the pair, watches as Lance straightens up. He’s out of the room a moment later, fingers working double time to do all his buttons.

“We never weren’t,” Lance says, still changing.

“You haven’t properly spoken to me in the last few weeks.” Keith deadpans.

“You’re imagining that,” Lance mumbles, pulling out his new uniform shirt and shaking it out, trying to get rid of some of the stiffness.

Keith crosses the room, wanting to grab Lance by the collar but not being able to because Lance is also, ironically, shirtless. Instead, Keith just crosses his arms, looking down his nose at Lance.

“Am I?”

Lance stares at Keith, about to retort with some of his own bite. But then his eyes fall to Keith’s neck, to the silver pendant.

“You’re wearing it?” Lance asks, surprised.

Keith furrows his brows, “yeah,” of course he is.

“But… you’re not mad?”

“I’m not _mad,_ ” Keith almost scoffs, “I just _miss_ you, jackass.”

Lance steps forward without warning, wrapping Keith in a hug.

“I miss you, too. I’m really sorry for ignoring you.” his head falls on Keith’s shoulder with a sigh.

Keith freezes, startled, but returns the hug a second later, hands hesitant on Lance’s shoulder blades. “Why’d you run away?” he murmurs, hooking his chin over Lance’s shoulder.

“I thought you’d be mad. I thought I’d ruined your birthday present and I forced myself on you,” Lance explains, “I figured that if I ignored you, you wouldn’t have to ignore me.”

“That’s… you didn’t ruin anything,” Keith assures, “and if I wanted you to stop I would’ve said something.”

“So… we’re still friends?” Lance asks, letting Keith shift back to make eye contact.

“Of course we are,” Keith says.

Lance’s shoulders relax, his features relieved. “I was really worried,” he says.

“Me too,” Keith smiles, patting Lance’s shoulder before returning to his uniform and tugging on his new shirt, the red shoulders falling fittingly.

“Wait…” Lance starts slowly, prompting Keith to turn as he adjusts his collar, “if you wanted to stop… you _didn’t._ ”

“I’m aware,” Keith smirks, turning away again. Had he not known that Lance was interested in him, he would have denied the claim right away. But now… he’s plenty sure he’s in the right.

Lance sputters, flushed when Keith turns back to him, clothes folded in his arms.

“Here,” Keith smiles, fighting laughter, “let me help.”

Keith buttons up Lance’s shirt, laughing when it only makes the paladin flush harder.

“It’s fitting you fly Red,” Keith remarks.

“Hey!” Lance says, indignant. He grabs Keith’s hands with his own, “I’m supposed to be the sauve one!”

“Then sauve away,” Keith teases, sure he’s won until Lance pulls him forward and kisses him again, far more sure than the first time.

When they pull apart this time, Lance is still just as close, smirking righteously in Keith’s face.

“Wow,” Keith says, “suave.”

Lance tries to uphold his charm, tries to keep his cool, but a second later has him laughing, forehead against Keith’s.

“We’d better go,” Keith says through his dying laughter, “we’ve been in here long enough.”

“Point,” Lance agrees, tucking his old uniform under an arm and slinging the other around Keith’s neck.

They make their way from the locker room like they used to; laughing, teasing and poking at one another for no good reason.

And Keith wonders just when he noticed Lance.

**Author's Note:**

> I've found it thereapeutic and important for me to write a big piece between seasons of Voltron. This one was started after season 7 and im honestly surprised i managed to finish before season 8! It's not that I hate writing or anything - I just get distracted and forget to. I manage to accidentally put it off. But I love writing, and I'm so glad I get to put this out!
> 
> On another note, *cough*shameless self promotion*cough*, I do have a multichapter fic that i just started and actually love the storyline of! [my love, can we](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911076/chapters/37088985)


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